Her back stiffened. The detective backed out slowly and closed the door without sound. Both arm-chairs had been moved a little so as to face each other on either side of the fender, and in the circular glow of the green-shaded lamp there lay, conspicuously waiting, a thick bundle of blue and white papers tied with pink tape. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it. "Mutual concessions," she added. “Were you thinking of private apartments, a boarding-house or an hotel?” she asked. You think you love this other man! No doubt you do love him. I will not trust you. But she did not in the least want to do that.
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